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joiced in the shelter afforded by the awning. Alas! we soon wished for any amount of rain rather than that awning!

The evening was closing in, and the boatmen assured us that no time ought to be lost in returning to Thun; so they pushed off, and we all congratulated ourselves that we should now have both wind and current in our favour. Darkness came on rapidly, and still the lightning flashed, and the rain poured down. We had proceeded a mile-and-a-half, or thereabouts, when a sudden squall arose, and seizing the awning, spun our boat round like a teetotumthe terror of the children, the anguish of the mother on their account, and the solemn awe of all, engraved that hour of terror deep on each of our minds. In vain the boatmen tried to land us the rocks were too steep to have permitted access even by daylight; and now it was simply impossible. Yet on no account dare they venture to round the next headland. At last they succeeded in finding the one poor landing-place which the banks afforded, and we sprang on shore with right thankful hearts, now wholly indifferent to the pouring rain. A light near, proceeding from the window of a châlet, had guided the boatmen to the landing, and we now hastened thither, crossing by a mere plank a deep chasm, through which a foaming torrent rushed to the lake. Entering the châlet, we found a mother and seven children seated around a table, each furnished with a spoon, with which they were securing their several shares of a bowl of water-soup which stood in the centre. None of them either moved or spoke, though we all warmed ourselves at their stove, consulted over our plans, and again and again went to the door to regard the weather. I approached the mother to inquire if it were possible for one of her boys to procure us any conveyance in the neighbourhood.

"There is no conveyance nearer than Thun, that is seven miles, and I cannot send a boy out in such a storm."

overhanging stone forming the roof. Over this entrance a cobweb curtain was drawn, and tiny drops of moisture studded the gossamer network, each one reflecting rainbow hues from a glowworm's lamp which shone within. When we reached the first table-ground on the hillside, we came upon a bridle-road which traversed the edge of the precipice now bordering the lake. We went on cheerily now, for we could walk in pairs, and again entertain ourselves with conversation. All was dark, except when the vivid lightning showed for a moment the depth beneath and the fretted waters of the lake. Ever and anon an angry torrent sweeping from the mountains poured across the path, falling in an extempore cascade into the lake, and we were obliged to wade ankle-deep through the flooding waters. Of the many torrents that we thus crossed scarcely any were permament: they were but the overflow of that night's drenching rain, an overflow doubtless often repeated. At last we reached a humble Wirthshaus, and I asked for food, fire, and beds. They had, alas! no beds, and the only food they could offer was milk, and the coarse spirit drawn from cherries. But we got very acceptable aid, for the landlady's daughter came with a lantern, and offered to lead us to the town. Mrs. Grey, already fatigued beyond her powers, took the arm of this brave and kindly girl, while my cousin and the boatman each mounted one of the exhausted children on their backs; and thus we proceeded for the remaining four miles of the journey, reaching Thun at midnight, the precious vasculum having been transferred to my charge, when Sarah took its place on her father's shoulders.

After the hardships of that excursion to the Cave of St. Beatus we were obliged to rest for a day or two, and we made our next outing by means of the steamboats plying on the sister lakes of Thun and Brienz. We were thus landed within a hundred yards of the beautiful cascade of the Giesbach. Here the water falls first over We felt that she was right-that we must one shelving rock, and then over another, leaving struggle with our own difficulties. We were hollows behind the cascades, where enterprising only distressed on account of the children. On tourists can pass in and out. On the sprayleaving we apologized for dirtying her cottage, spattered rocks we found the Asplenum viride and I gave her the only coin I had about me, a in abundance, as well as its more wiry brother 20-centime piece. She was astonished and de- the Trichomanes. High and dry upon the same lighted, and we amused ourselves with contrast-rocks was the lovely mountain Forget-me-not, ing her manners with that of our own cottagers under similar circumstances. Imagine their disgust if a party of tourists soiled their clean floor and then presented twopence !

One of the boatmen offered himself as guide, and the other waited the conclusion of the storm to bring the boat round to Thun. At first we had only a goat-path by which to ascend the steep hill, and the rain rendered it so slippery that we often fell, and were sometimes constrained to creep awhile on our hands and knees. While thus proceeding a fairy-scene came upon my view. By the side of the path a little group of mossy stones formed a cave, the entrance to which was sheltered from the heavy rain by the

whilst the grove at the summit was carpeted with the thick elastic tufts of Haller's applemoss. We reclined on this natural couch, and peasant children brought us delicious Alpine strawberries, offering at the same time beautiful articles in carved wood for sale. We enjoyed our quiet excursion that day, for we were physically unfit for aught of enterprise.

Our last exploration in the lovely Oberland was the Valley of the Kander. With three horses to our carriage we started at five o'clock in the morning, traversing first a part of the road we had already seen on our expedition to the Niesen; but presently a turn to the right brought us amid new scenes, and by eight

us.

o'clock we reached the village of Frutigen. There we paused to bait the horses and get breakfast for ourselves, and I never remember a more delicious meal than was then spread before Café-au-lait, fresh eggs in abundance, fresh butter, rolls, and honey were all there, each the very best of its kind. The drive through the morning-air had given us hearty appetite, and we did justice to the good cheer. For this we were charged half-a-franc each! As we proceeded up the valley, frequent hills required much walking on our part, and gave us just the opportunity for botanizing which we desired. Here and there, on patches of ground among rocks, we gathered splendid specimens of the Gentiana campestris, the flowers fully twice the size of those of the English plant; while from the hilly groves, bordering the road at intervals, branches of the graceful Campanula like Gentiana purpurea tempted us to climb and cull. In similar places we found the mountain Hare's ear (Bupleurum ranunculoides), its tiny yellow umbels seated on broad leafy involucres, which, along with the prevailing yellowness of the foliage, gave it the appearance of a spurge, and rendered it perfect, as a contrast, for its neighbours the blue and violet gentians. We drew nearer and nearer to the foot of the true Alps, and could now discern the greenish-white hue of the glaciers; while the forests of tree-stumps showed where falling avalanches had mown down the stately trees as entirely as the scythe cuts off the grass upon a lawn. The village of Kandersteg is very small, and the little wooden wirthaus smelt like a great deal-box, and made us feel like animated dolls in a giant's babyhouse. Having ordered our dinner, we made for the mountains, alpenstocks in hand, if so be that we might attain to the Gemmi Pass, and look over into Italy. Oh the beauty of that ascending path! the ice-fed torrent of the Kander roaring by its side, and ever tempting a delay to admire its frequent cascades. Here the courted inmate of our petted ferneries-the holly Polystichum-was growing in native ease. We count every frond in the cultivated plant, proud beyond measure when it becomes sufficiently naturalized to grow four or five inches high.

But here each plant had its circle of twenty fronds, growing like a crown from the caudex,

each frond a foot or more in length, and glossy and prickly as its namesake the holly-tree. Here, too, the Alpine stag's-horn moss trailed its long branches, and the children wound it round their hats, in emulation of Wordsworth's peasant-boys. The yellow lichen, Everina vulpina, supposed to poison wolves, here raised its powdery branches; and on the more exposed ground brilliant plots were seen of violet and blue. The former were composed of the lovely Alpine Linaria, where the violet corolla is beautifully contrasted by its orange mouth; the latter were made up of plants of the tiny Gentiana nivalis, each measuring about two inches in height, and bearing at least twenty brilliant blue blossoins, with white star-like eyes.

We did not reach the Gemmi Pass. Our powers could not achieve it; but we descended rapidly, neither wishing to lose our dinner nor be overtaken by night on that dangerous road. In the low swampy ground around the village we found abundance of the marsh gentian; its stems above a foot in height, and crowded for two-thirds of their length with the large upright purple bells. In returning, we had a fair share of contretemps. We broke a spring of the carriage, and had to walk several miles before we could meet with a smith to repair it; in the meanwhile thunder came on again, and we feared we were in for another drenching. But a happier fate awaited us. We reached a village just as the storm burst, and we had no worse disagreeables than bad tea, thickened with boiled milk, and sour bread to eat with it, for which we were charged double what we had paid for the sweet meal of the morning at Frutigen! Our tea over, and the carriage mended, we started again; and, though the rest of our journey was performed in darkness, yet we had the light of glow-worms to cheer us, and the comfort of knowing that the storm had passed over.

The next day we were occupied with preparations for our long journey home. The plants and their presses were packed, along with sketch-books and drawings. Only with the noise and bustle of London around us again, did we sum up the results of our excursion, and find that the fortnight's botanizing had given us sixty-four characteristic Swiss plants!

"THE OTHER ONE."

BY S. ANNIE FROST.

It was a distinctive title, which was almost as much her name as the Antoinette inscribed upon the baptismal register. People talked of the beautiful Miss Hammond, the talented Miss Hammond, and the other one; or of the oldest Miss Hammond, the youngest Miss Hammond, and the other one; or varied this by the brunette,

the blonde, and the other one; and I am sure all the large circle of acquaintance who thus distinguished them will ridicule the idea of making a heroine out of "the other one."

Looking at her, upon the dreary December night which opens my story, you will see there is but little outwardly to mark her as fitted for

the post. The slender little figure, so neatly draped in pretty blue merino; the glossy braids of brown hair, with no flower or jewel to decorate their profusion; the delicate complexion, soft brown eyes, and sweet flexible mouth are each graceful and winning; but glancing from her to the sisters who stand near her, you admit their advantages. Leonie, the tall, superb brunette, in her black lace dress, gleaming here and there with rich crimson knots of ribbon, her hair drooping low and crowned with crimson flowers, is Juno-like and bewildering in her regal beauty; while Lucy, the blonde, tall too, but exquisitely ethereal in her floating robes of white, with starry jasmine twisted in her short curls, is only second to Leonie in loveliness. Mamma, tall and dark, with worldliness written upon every feature of her handsome face, is in gala dress too, for to-night one of the crowning festivities of the season is waiting the arrival of the Misses Hammond, and Mrs. Hammond always accompanies her daughters. Nettie, of course, was invited, but Nettie don't care much for parties, and has chosen to wait at home for papa; for papa, being a physician in full practice, has a fashion of popping in at all sorts of eccentric hours, and Nettie has noticed that he seems to relish his coffee or dinner more, when she hovers about him to pay personal attention to the sugar or salt question, to ask questions of the day's duties, to pepper his dinner with rattling anecdotes of home, or sympathise with him over some newly discovered case of distress. Leonie and Lucy have declared it a horrid shame that she won't go; her mother has added that Nettie has queer notions and she has had her own way in the matter.

As soon as the carriage rolls away with the party-goers, Nettie tidies the pretty sitting-room, and takes out her knitting, a pair of wonderful crimson and brown comforts for papa's wrists. She has not long to knit; for by nine o'clock she hears the gig drive up, and tosses aside needles and wool, to fly down-stairs and greet her father.

"Come in the sitting-room, papa," she cries, drawing him forward; "it is so nice and warm there, and I have told Martha to bring up your supper, so you won't have to go down again."

"Rest all out?" asks the doctor.

"Yes; gone to Mrs. Moseley's, the large party, you know, that we had cards for last week."

fully and noiselessly, Martha's voice make such music in his heart, or give him such a sense of rest after the day's fatigue and anxiety.

"And now, papa, while you eat your supper, I want to read you a story Lou wrote to-day. One of her gems, with the prettiest song verses introduced. You are not too tired?"

The proud father was never too tired to admire Lucy's graceful sketches; so the story was read and admired to Nettie's full satisfaction.

"Ain't it lovely?" she said, as she folded the papers. "I am so proud of Lucy! It is so nice when I hear strangers wondering who L. H. is, to think 'That's my sister,' and to have such a delicious little mystery to unfold."

"And now tell me what you have been doing all day?"

"All sorts of things. I helped Lou a little by copying her article for her, and I made the knots of Leo's dress, and trimmed mamma's gloves, and concocted that chicken-pie you are eating, and did a lot of odds and ends, nothing much."

"Are you too tired to read me this article in the Lancet? My eyes are snow-dazzled, and I should like to hear what this fellow has to say -Diseases of the Eye.""

"I am sure he recommends green spectacles for doctors who drive about on sunlit snow. By the way, papa, do you suppose any doctor ever practises what he preaches?"

"I don't know, dear, I'm sure; I should probably preach very loudly at any of my patients who drank such strong coffee as this in the evening, or who ate his eggs as I do mine, boiled to perfect bullets."

"I am so glad you are not going out again," said Nettie, as her father donned dressing-gown and slippers, and struck an attitude, peculiar to tired doctors, upon the sofa-"though," she added thoughtfully, "it must pay for being tired, to comfort so many poor sick folks as you do."

"And to have such a nice little girl to make one lazy," said her father. "You are right, Nettie; the power to soothe a sufferer, to comfort a mourner, to aid nature to restore or smooth the path to the grave, is a gift God sent, for which I give him humble and hearty thanks. I was sent for to-day to the C- Hotel, to prescribe for a gentleman, a stranger here, who fell upon the ice, and has got an ugly compound fracture to keep him a prisoner for a long time. He is all alone, his family being in California, and I really think was more grateful for an "Oh, I didn't care for it. Three of us are hour's chat than for all my bandages and splints." enough, and where Leo and Lou are, they won't miss me. Oh, father! Leo was superb to-night; she had her hair dressed in the new fashion, with crimson flowers all woven in among the braids, and drooping on the neck. She wore grandma's diamonds too, and her dress was very becoming."

"Why didnt you go?"

"You should have gone; Martha can wait upon me."

Yet, while he said it, the doctor knew that Martha's fingers could never arrange a tray so temptingly, never wait upon him so thought

"I should say the chat was decidedly the most agreeable, poor fellow! Who is he?"

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You'll find his card in my coat pocket. Not that - nor that-that's it!" "Leonard Williams! Why, papa, that's Leonard Williams."

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Well, dear?"

'But, papa, you remember Hattie Simp

son-"

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"Yes, dear," said the bewildered doctor, looking at Nettie's flushed cheeks.

"Who went to California three years ago,

with her father, and married John Coles. Well, her father married the widow of the great banker Willis Williams, and she wrote that Leonard, the only son, was coming here on his tour through the States. You must have heard Leo talk of it."

"Well, you know, dear, I don't hear Leo talk much. As she never comes down to breakfast and is out every evening, and as I am away all day, there is not much chance of her telling me the news. But I remember Hattie very well. So this is a connection of hers?"

"Why, papa, all the girls are crazy to see him. His father left him an immense fortune, and he is one of the most successful lawyers in San Francisco. Hattie describes him as about as near perfection as one of Lou's heroes."

"He's rather a fine-looking fellow, with large, frank eyes, that look straight at one, and he has a good, clear voice, too, as if he was ashamed of nothing he had to say. He a hero! Well, he won't captivate a heroine just yet, Nettie, for his arm is in a bad way. Now, the Lancet!"

The long, able article was read and criticized, and quite a perceptible impression made upon the knitting before the doctor and Nettie concluded to seek their respective apartments, and if there had been one lingering regret on Nettie's mind for the brilliant party she had lost, her father's warm kiss and "God bless you, darling," quite drove it away.

The next morning, Leonard Williams was fully discussed at the breakfast-table. Leonie and Lucy were still dreaming of the conquests of the previous evening, but Mrs. Hammond decided that the invalid must be their guest. The doctor was only too glad to offer his hospitality to the stranger, and Mrs. Hammond fully appreciated the "chance" thrown in her way. Leonie and Lucy were much too fascinating for a resident in the house to leave the heart whole, and visions of the stranger's immense wealth danced in fascinating profusion through mamma's brain, as she dressed for the ride to the C Hotel to offer her motherly care to Leonard Williams.

He was up and dressed when the doctor entered the room; but there was a contraction of lip and brow, a deadly pallor and weary expression, that told of acute pain borne quietly. To say that he accepted the doctor's invitation gratefully, gives but a feeble idea of the glow in his cheek, the light in his eye, that expressed his pleasure. A home!

"We can all feel independent enough when we are well, doctor," he said, smiling; "but there is nothing like a twinge of pain to recall mother-love, or a good fit of sickness to bring out home memories. But I am afraid to tax your kindness so far. A stranger-"

"Not at all: the women folks have discovered an old friend. You may have heard Hattie Coles speak of the Hammonds."

"Speak of them! Haven't I bowed in spirit before Miss Leonie's picture, and admired even to Hattie's content the exquisite stories of Miss Lucy. And you are really Dr. Hammond."

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"DEAR HATTIE,-You were very anxious to have me write as soon as I had seen your dear friend Leonie Hammond, and tell you how she impressed me, so here goes for a long letter. First and foremost, you must go to mother for the details of a lucky fall I had, and the subsequent invitation to make Dr. Hammond's house my home; then, fancy me fairly domesticated, in a charming room, with that dear old gentleman to pay me daily visits, his stately wife to see that I have every comfort, and the young ladies flying in or out as the whim takes them. I have never been too sick to come down-stairs, but appear daily in a charming crimson wrapper that suits my Spanish complexion to a nicety, and slippers that would make anybody lazy.

"But all this time you are waiting to hear of your friend. Hattie, she is bewildering: even your descriptions fall short of the reality, and your vignette portrait is a miserable libel. Such eyes!-now full of fire, now beaming with mirth, now melting with pathos. Such a queenly figure! such beautiful, rich tresses! such a sunny complexion! Well, words do her no justice. She is the most wonderfully beautiful woman I ever saw.

"Of Lucy I see but little; she is abstracted and self-contained, spends whole days shut up in the doctor's library, and seems to pass her whole time in dreaming out her new stories or poems, which are certainly worth the trouble.

"But, Hattie, why did you never tell me of the other one-Nettie, the household fairy, the wee, witching, graceful Cinderella to these lovely sisters? No, not Cinderella, for that heroine was neglected and abused, and Nettie just wraps round her warm heart the love of the whole family. While Leonie is riding, driving, dancing, skating, or sleeping, and Lucy is shut up in the library bewailing the sorrows of Araminta or creating a situation for Clementina, Nettie is the home fairy. She appears in the sitting-room daily, with delicious compounds which she informs me she has manufactured for my especial delight, though I notice there is always a duplicate dish for the doctor's dinner or supper. She comes in demurely, to sit down to great piles of white stuff which she gravely states to be the "week's mending," and shoots a tiny glittering needle in and out, reducing long ends of thread to miserable inches in less tine than it takes to tell it, her tongue all the while keeping up a merry rattle, or tracing out deeper thought as the whim takes her. The others are very gay, and dazzle me night after night by coming in to twist round before the pier glass as they are starting for a party, sometimes

dragging Nettie off too, spite of her reluctance, to bring her home full of pleasure at the admiration lavished upon her sisters. But the most charming time of all is the evening. Dr. Hammond is generally at home; or when he is out, one of the sisters remains. On the latter occasions, we have music and small talk; but when the doctor presides, then Nettie lets all her hidden inner-self out, and a charming selfit is, so womanly, so true, pure, and good. No deep thought to startle, but the quiet, reliable intelligence of a child, frank and questioning, yet full of beauty. She reads beautifully, and we bave all Lucy's stories, as she writes them,varied by the articles in the Lancet, the news of the day, poetry, fiction, history, anything that one of the trio will suggest. She seldom plays when her sisters are present; but for the doctor and me she will accompany herself to simple ballads, which she sings with taste, in a clear, sweet, but not very powerful voice, often giving me the use of her fingers to carry out the tenor you are so fond of. It is very beautiful to see how they all love her and rely upon her. She can always produce the doctor's lost spectacles or instrument-case; knows exactly where her mother laid her fan last evening; is always

ready to trim Leonie's dresses, lend her finery, or braid her magnificent hair; has time to copy Lucy's articles, hunt up her quotations, pet her headaches, or find out the complimentary notices in the papers, and feels amply rewarded by being kissed, petted, and imposed upon by every member of the loving family.

"Ah! Leonie is superb; Lucy has wonderful talent; but, Hattie, for a home bird, for a companion, friend, and wife, give me 'the other one'."

It created something of an excitement in the family when the millionaire, the gentlemanly invalid who had won the affection of all, made his sentiments public; but when he announced his intention of taking an adjoining house, and setting up his office in the city, the doctor gave a glad consent to take him for a son-in-law, while Leo and Lou declared he would make the most delightful brother-in-law imaginable.

"To think," said Leo, laughing, as she stood contemplating a pile of silk and lace, heaped up in the sitting-room, "that the first wedding in the family should carry off-"

"Not the beauty," said Lucy.

"Nor the authoress," said her mother. 'But," in chorus, "the other one!"

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NIGHT ASCENT OF THE JUNGFRAU.

BY AN AMERICAN.

A party of Englishmen, members of the Climbing Club, stopping in the Bernese Oberland. were about to attempt the ascent of the Jungfrau.

I am no great lover of the English. There may be some very amiable people among them in their own country; I have never been disposed to go there and search them out; but I have met them all over the rest of Europe; and everywhere, even in my dreams, I protest I have found them stiff, ungracious, sullen, and unsociable, guarding themselves against all approach, like thistles or porcupines; therefore the idea of their Climbing Club, giving us another proof of the only kind of superiority I recognized in them over us, irritated me to the last extremity.

The English have planted their flag in each of the five divisions of the globe. The bubbling sea no sooner gives birth to a little chance island, than, before it becomes half consolidated, while it is yet only a mass of liquid mire, they plunge into it a tall pole surmounted by their leopard streamer; this same pole, this same streamer, must needs now decorate the snowy summits of the highest mountains on the globe, beginning with Switzerland, For this object was the

Climbing Club organized; the Climbing Cub the highest expression for their system of encroachment, now being carried to its crowning point.

In company with some fellow-tourists, I was at that time sojourning at Lauterbrunnen, in that valley where the Jungfrau rears its head thirteen thousand six hundred and seventy-one feet high. From our inn, we could see it proudly overlook the whole northern chain of the Alps. It was constantly before my eyes, and its sight filled my soul with emotions lofty as its own proud summit.

Of my companions, some were artists, others botanists or mineralogists. All, every morning, dispersed according to their several tastes; I, from choice, remained behind, guarding the baggage, book in hand. Now, as this book was generally some guide to Switzerland, I might have been, though remaining stationary, better posted than they in all the beauties of the Bernese Oberland; but my attention was constantly diverted by the sight of the mountain.

One day, when we met at dinner, my companions, beginning, as usual, to rally me upon my quiet habits and indifference to Alpine explora

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